Undisturbed
by chaserzachsmith
Summary: 1995-2001: The Gryffindor dorm is rarely peaceful, and never silent.


· _1995_ ·

The dorm room is quieter than any of them remember it ever being. Ron is sitting on his trunk. Dean is lying with his hands clasped behind his head, like he's relaxing on some beach somewhere. Seamus is sitting up in bed trying to spin his wand around his fingers. Neville is pretending to be asleep.

And Harry is wherever the hell Harry is.

Ron wonders for a moment how Harry's keeping. They're all having a shit night, but Harry's undoubtedly having a worse one.

Seamus says, "Maybe this is a dream." Ron glances at Seamus, who is looking fixedly at one of his bedposts.

"Maybe," says Dean, who doesn't seem to believe it. Seamus doesn't, either.

"Maybe," echoes Neville.

"This is fucking mental," says Seamus. He spins his wand in his hand. It spins out of his hand and lands on the floor a few feet away.

Nobody replies. Seamus climbs out of bed and retrieves his wand. Someone sighs. It's almost imperceptible.

"Mental," mumbles Ron, when it's been far too long. Neville takes a deep breath. There's another sigh. Dean. Ron leans back into the bedpost and closes his eyes.

"Hogwarts is supposed to be safe," blurts Seamus. "Hogwarts is supposed to, y'know, protect everyone."

Neville nods. He doesn't know what else to do.

"And- and Cedric Diggory," says Seamus, gesturing vaguely. "He was- I figured he would come out on top, you know? In the end?"

Dean watches for a moment as Seamus's temper fizzes uselessly. Finally, Seamus huffs a breath out and punches the bed next to him.

Neville wonders if Seamus feels better now. He doubts it.

Seamus may not be particularly articulate, but Dean agrees wholeheartedly with his sentiments. There was something so untouchable, so invincible about Cedric Diggory. Something that made you think- yeah, Cedric Diggory was gonna be okay.

Dean mumbles something quiet and turns on his side. Seamus drops his wand again. Neville sighs.

Seamus wants to tell Neville to stop making that stupid sad noise, because they're all shaken and they're all sad and all the sighing they do isn't going to do shit but remind them of it. He picks his wand up again and looks at it for a moment. Doesn't spin it.

Ron wonders again how Harry is. How Harry got that cut on his arm. If Harry was asleep.

Probably not.

"Do you think they'll have to close Hogwarts?" asks Neville. He still has his eyes closed. He can't tell if it's because he's had them closed too long and theyre stuck that way until he falls asleep, or if he just doesnt want to see his roommates' faces.

Seamus shrugs. Dean hums that he doesn't know. Ron closes his eyes and says, "People have died before and it's still open."

"I guess," says Neville doubtfully.

Seamus puts his wand on the table by the bed. Dean puts his pillow over his face. Neville goes back to pretending he's asleep.

Ron gets up and stretches, then gets into bed, sits leaning against the headboard and thinks that if all the Ministry precautions couldn't help Cedric Diggory, they won't help anyone else. He stares at his hands, registers with mild interest a bad hangnail on his thumb. He picks at it and wonders if Harry was right, all those months ago, about the tournament being used to kill someone. He puts his bleeding thumb in his mouth then scrubs it on his sleeve.

All four of them lie in bed, silently awake. It's too quiet for comfort. Ron has his fingers curled around his thumb. Dean is curled away from Seamus. Seamus is staring straight at the ceiling. Neville is pretending to be asleep.

And Harry, wherever the hell Harry is.

· _1997_ ·

It has been quiet before, but Seamus can't remember it being this quiet. Not even when Cedric had died.

He clears his throat, as though to test the waters. Neville turns to look at him, just a little bit too fast.

Seamus kicks his trunk for no reason other than to feel violent, and it scoots an inch to the side. He kicks it again.

Neville drops his pyjamas on his bed and sits down to take off his shoes. Seamus sits down on his trunk and scratches behind an ear.

There are two of them left. Seamus and Neville were never friends, never close. And now, with the rest of them gone, they are hovering here uncomfortably, maybe not sure what to do.

Neville climbs in bed and sits cross-legged. Seamus rubs roughly at his eyes for a moment. Neville muses that even if everything else has changed, Seamus at least seems roughly the same.

"Just us," he ventures, and Seamus looks up, surprised that he'd broken their silence.

"Yeah," mutters Seamus. He gets up, digs through his trunk, suddenly desperate for something tangible to do.

"Seamus," says Neville, unsure what he wants to say. Maybe he just wants him to know that they're stuck in this together, that he plans to be there for him, that they're going to be okay.

Seamus glances over. "Sorry," says Neville, suddenly forgetting everything he'd considered.

Seamus lets out a huffy breath. "Me too," he says, his voice a little lower than usual.

They change in silence, get in bed in silence. Seamus points his wand to shut off the lights.

"Seamus," says Neville into the darkness.

Seamus turns on his side. "Yeah?"

Neville doesn't respond for a moment. Then, "You alright?"

Something threatens to choke Seamus, rises in his throat. He wants to give in, for a brief moments. Wants to cry. "I'm fine," he says instead.

Neville has his doubts. He lies back in bed, stares straight at the ceiling. Wonders where everyone else is, if they're safe.

He has his doubts. He doesn't say so.

· _1998_ ·

The dorm is less quiet, this time around. Seamus is sitting on his own empty trunk, kicking one foot through his stuff scattered on the floor. He turns to glance up at Dean, says that the Carrows must have searched it.

Neville isn't here. Harry isn't here. Ron isn't here. Dean and Seamus probably shouldn't even be here until Flitwick's deemed it safe, but they don't care enough.

Seamus is, if not showered, at least somewhat rinsed, and his shirt is sticking uncomfortably to his back. He shifts awkwardly and cracks his neck.

Dean sits on the floor next to the trunk and looks at the mess. Stacks a few ruined textbooks.

"My mam paid good money for those," says Seamus. He stands up and almost falls over, sits back down hastily. "Some of this is probably Neville's."

Dean picks up a lone shoe and considers it, and the door opens.

"You want me to stay?" Ron is asking, halfway in the door, and Harry shakes his head, says something in a low voice.

Ron nods, secretly a little relieved, and retreats again. The door swings shut.

Dean and Seamus and Harry eye each other for a moment, then Dean gets up and goes to hug Harry. "Good to see you, mate," he says, sincerely, and Harry chuckles weakly.

Seamus gets up too, claps Harry on the back, and Harry grins at them. It's only seeing him so close that Dean realises how tired he must be.

"Carrows ripped up my bed," says Seamus, and gestures vaguely. "But yours should be good."

Harry nods and flops on his back in his bed. Doesn't even take off his shoes. Dean and Seamus watch mutely; Seamus grins a little.

"We should go," mumbles Dean, and Seamus nods. They leave Harry to rest, but Seamus leaves the lights on, just because if he were Harry, he wouldn't want to wake up in the dark.

· _2001_ ·

Neville hasn't ventured to this part of the castle since he was seventeen. He doubts any of his old roommates have, either, since none of them came back after seventh year.

None of the boys are at Hogwarts over the holiday, but their room is a veritable mess all the same. Someone's shoes piled at the foot of his bed. Someone's broom lying on his bed. Someone's books stacked on his trunk.

Neville looks at what had been his bed. The comforter is folded back neatly.

He doesn't remember their room like this at all, doesn't remember this careless, happy space. He doesn't think it existed after their fourth year, maybe even before then.

He can almost imagine the boys who lived here, how they were funny like Ron or brash like Seamus or introspective like Dean or closed off like Harry. Maybe someone here felt out of place, like him.

He closes the door, leaves the room as quiet and peaceful as he'd found it.


End file.
